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by Geminigypsy521



Category: La Reina del Sur (TV), Queen of the South
Genre: Deserves, F/M, Falling In Love, Heartbreak, James - Freeform, Love, Starcrossed Lovers, all - Freeform, the
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-02 20:08:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11516526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geminigypsy521/pseuds/Geminigypsy521
Summary: Just a collection of blood soaked and love laces memories of a girl who happened to be in love with James Valdez





	1. Hurts like Hell

**_-Cause I don’t stand a chance in these four walls._ **

I wish I could say “I wish I’d never met him”. I wish I could hate him. More than anything sometimes. Wish I could put all the blame on him. But I knew that that wasn’t possible- because more then anything; more than overly protective and scarily possessive, James had been honest with me. From the very start.

So as I lie- clutching my middle in a desperate attempt to keep the hot blood pouring out of the fresh bullet hole that had been blown in my fucking stomach I can’t hate him. Somewhere  deep in the panicky haze of my mind I’m worried about him.

My poor James. Poor baby.

He’d never get over this.

Finding my dead bloody corpse- it would fucking kill him. It would mangle what was left of that big heart of his. The one that was already full of bullet wounds and stabbed punctures and IED shrapnel. The one he tried to pretend he left back in Afghanistan.

Liar.

He was such a good liar.

I had been such a good liar.

Had been.

Had been….

I was an afterthought. A past tense. I laugh, that adrenalin clouding my head, and it feels like choking. Turns into wheezing.

Fuck.

Doesn’t that mean internal bleeding? I thought to myself and doesn’t internal bleeding mean I’m completely screwed? I remember my doctor of a grandfather instilling that in me. Bleeding on the outside? Bad. Bleeding on the inside? Even fucking worse.

At least it didn’t hurt anymore, I couldn’t really feel anything. Not the sticky blood oozing between my fingers or my feet that kept twitching. It was like a cold numbness eating me from my toes up.

Sit up. I know I should but every time I try I fall back because of the flair of pain. Grab my phone. Call for someone. James.

James.

“James” I croak into the emptiness of the parking lot.

James and his arms and the way his voice sounded when he was sleepy and his dark eyes- ones that intimidate everyone else but that I had always teased him looked like they belonged to a chocolate lab or something. And that’s what he was. A loyal dog.

My loyal six foot tall lap dog.

The tears that had been leaking from the corners of my eyes steadily start to pour, and if I wasn’t so fucking numb, I think I’d probably be sobbing.  

I was so scared. Not only of dying(I’d been scared of the impending doom of death for years now) but of never getting to see him again. Of the last time him seeing me being this version of me. Covered in a layer of heavy crimson.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Hank! Call 9-11!”

I can hear the person that’s found me, voice laced with a Texas twang, but I can’t manage to turn my head to see them until their face is hovering right over mine.

Oh. Mrs. Connely. One of our neighbors who lived a few town houses over. The one with the gaggle of Pomeranians.

The last thing I was going to see was her large, teased, red hair.

I sob again.

What the fuck.

“Okay hon- you just keep breathin’ okay? The ambulance is coming. Keep on breathing” The womans hands flail a little, as though she doesn’t know where to touch me. Where to place them.

I barley know her- only knew the older lady and her older husbands we’re into show dogs and into talking about show dog competitions- but it feels good that she’s here.

I didn’t want to be alone.

It’s almost comical, I had a shit ton of friends. Family. Family friends. And yet I was sprawled out on the pavement with a woman thrice my age that I didn’t even know.

Then- it’s like being unplugged. Like standing up too fast and not being able to stop spinning and I’m gasping hard trying to keep above the water that was fighting to engulf me.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Didn’t she know that I’d hardly breathed since the night I’d met him?

**_Okay guys so I’m most def still working on Born to Die. I’ve gotten a couple chapters drafted out for it and they’ll be up soon! My love for James Valdez is unending. Especially in the new season ughhhh. He’s so…warm. You know? I love the way that they made this sharp shooting , leather wearing bad ass such a understanding gooey baby. It’s beautiful really. This story will be a collection of one shots. Another James/OC, but a very different OC. Hope ya’ll like it!_ **


	2. He was like James Dean, Forsure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time I met him.

**I was drunk again, causing accidents. Oh you’re not a friend, no you’re nothing. I think I should be a little more confident. In myself. In my skin.**

I guess I should tell you guys about the night I met him, about how he had come into my life like some knight in shining fucking armor.

Drug dealer in shining armor. Hah.

I was sitting in the back seat of an Uber(that driver was a FUCKING creep by the way) with two of my best friends I’m trying my very best to not be the whiny bitch I feel like being.

Positivity brings positivity.

I chime the verse of some self-improvement book I’d read to myself.

“Arlene I’m tired! I worked like a nine hour shift today!”

“We’re twenty five years old! You cannot spend every weekend in sweat pants watching fucking ghost hunters, Kay. I’m serious- it’s not healthy! In five years we’re going to be thirty. Fucking thirty. And Cassie’s going to get knocked up any day now” My dark curly haired best friend had convinced me to leave my apartment in one phone call and I’d begrudgingly gotten all dolled up and agreed to go to the bars with them.

Chunky yet funky.

“You look like someone killed your cat! Cheer up, the mojito’s are bomb there” Cassie perks from beside me as she texts away on her phone.

Probably to her boyfriend.

Who was a psychopath.

I mean don’t get me wrong I liked Will(Cass’ boyfriend of too fucking long) but he literally kept tabs on her.

I couldn’t.

Ever let someone… rule me like that ever.

Which is probably why I was alone. And had been for the last five or so years. But you know what? I liked it that way.

“I am cheery, ho” I inform her as I reapply a coat of nude liquid lipstick, holding up a compact mirror. Trying my fucking best to see in the dark of the car. “I just hate crowds of people, you know that”

“It’ll be fine, there’s some baseball game going on tonight. Everyone will be there- I bet it will be dead where we’re going”  Arlene reassures as she fluffed her ringlet like curls, making her hair even bigger if that was possible.

My ass.

The Tavern, a bar in downtown Dallas, was so packed full of people that I hold my arms close to myself in an attempt not to bump anyone. Music blairs from the speakers and it’s dark, being lit dimly only by neon colored lights scattered throughout the space.

Ugh.

“I need a drink” I inform them, making a beeline for the bartenders, slipping through the crowd of bodies with both of them behind me.

Cass offers to buy first round and I don’t fight her.

With a little bit of gin in my system(because of course I’d gotten a mojito like she’d advised and they we’re pretty bomb) I start to feel a little better.

We’re sat on the tall metal stools talking about Kim Kardashians new nose job when they approach. A group of a few guys, they sit on the stools next to us. All except for one of them who stays standing, looking a bit stiff. A bit forced. The odd one out. I wonder if I look the same?

“How are you ladies doing tonight?” The dark skinned meat head asked us as they order some drinks.

 I smile- obviously forced and cross my legs at the knee, turning to be closer to Arlene and farther from the new guys.

Getting hit on?

Yeah sometimes it was flattering. Entertaining even. But most of the time it was just creepy.

And I wasn’t in the fucking mood.

“I’m doing okay, little tired, yourself?” It comes out charming even though it feels mechanical.

“Tired? How are you tired in this place? It’s popping?”

“Adulting sucks” Is all I reply and the man laughs a little, before introducing himself to Arlene, Cassie and I.

After two drinks(curtsey of our new friend) and a mood change we’d learnt a lot about him.

Mostly because he’s a fucking chatter mouth.

His name is TJ, he’s thirty something years old and he’s not a Texas native. His friends, buddies from the army, are Tony(the short one with a salt and pepper beard and a v-neck, yes seriously a v-neck) and James.

James is the one who hasn’t sat down yet, who looks like he doesn’t really want to be in the bar. He’s also the hottest, by fucking far(at least to me- I knew Arlene had a thing for chocolate and I could see her eyes light up at TJ’s smooth words)

Tall, maybe six foot and donned with a leather Jacket and dark curly hair. I can’t see much of his face in the shit lighting but from what I can see he’s not lacking there either. He’s not very talkative, doesn’t  really immerse himself in the conversation like his friends do. He’s also not like weirdly sulky. He’s just…almost zen. If not a little bored.

Cassie urges us to go dance(aka let’s get the fuck out of here) when Tony gets a little too close and we leave the guys at the bar- no real love lost. I mean I didn’t come here to talk to ex-soldiers all night anyway.

I hadn’t really wanted to come at all.

But I guess I was happy I did- better than sitting in my apartment binging on Halo Top mint chocolate chip. Plus it was never boring when I was with my girlfriends…

The pathetic part of myself that had spent all day in an office kind of craved boring.

When had I gotten so old? I would have been all over this shit in highschool. High school Kayleigh had been a wild child, fuck I had barley graduated.

Maybe that’s why at twenty five I acted more like a sixty year old. All those years of hangovers had scared me.

Cassie and Arlene are having too much fun for me to ask them for the third time if they we’re ready to go so instead of being a selfish dick about the fact that I was having a nasty bout of anxiety I told them I was going to go get some air.

“I’ll go with you” Arlene had slurred a little, those vodka sodas getting her.  

“No! It’s okay, I’ll be back in like ten okay?”

They both look hesitant, even though they haven’t stopped moving to the hypnotic regge music.

“I’m fine” I’m a grown ass woman “I’ll find you guys!”

And with that I forced my way onto the rooftop patio area. Keeping my head high, my eyes forward.

Life’s a different ball game when you’re a woman alone, and even though my stomach churned with anxiousness, I refused to let that show in my eyes.

The late October Texan air is still warm, but has a chilly underbite and I regret not bringing a jacket as it hits my shoulders that we’re exposed due to the Bardot style top  I had on. The patio was marginally less cram packed then inside of the bar and was lit by a few burning fire pits.

They illuminated the space in a warm, terracotta glow.

Leaning against the iron railing I look out at the city; the lights and the vastness. Trying to take the deep calming yoga breaths I was used to taking when my anxiety got like this.

Almost all of the ice in my third mojito had melted and I sipped on the watered down drink slowly and scrolled through my phone, if only for something to do. To look idle- not approachable.

It doesn’t work unfortunately.

The guy who approaches me is pleasant enough(I don’t even remember his name), but drunk and more pushy then I fucking cared for. And he just wouldn’t get the hint.

I have a boyfriend. I’m a closeted lesbian. I’m studying to be a psychologist because I’m so mentally ill I can barely live my life(that one was actually true). I have AID’s.

Nada.

Nothing deterred this guy.

It’s only when he stumbled and his what’s left of the beer in his cup spills down the left side of my shirt do I have a BF.

A full Bitch Fit.

“Oh my god you fucking idiot” It slips out…

Okay I hiss it at him as I put distance between me and the inebriated man, wanting him to leave me alone as I look around for anything to clean my WHITE shirt with.

“Hey, don’t be a bitch I didn’t mean to-“ He starts and I scoff.

“Fuck off, leave me alone”

Ugh, I was going to smell like beer all night. Greaaaaat.

Before he can say or do anything a third person had entered the dilemma.

I look up from my soaked shirt and see it was one of the guys from back inside. The tall, leathery one. James.

“Do we have a problem here?” James inquired, his gruff voice a little intimidating.

The drunk unnamed man scrambles, trips over his words and I roll my eyes as he stumbles away, back inside and into the crowd of people without even apologizing.

“Are you okay?” James then asks me and I nod, irritated.

“Yeah I’m okay. I just hate other humans” I wring out my shirt a little and he reaches into the back pocket of his jeans and pulls out a paper napkin.

“I feel that” He chuckles a small chuckle and goes to light the cigarette in his hand.

The breeze had just picked up and even though he cupped the lighter the flame kept going out whenever he sparked it.

I stopped blotting my damp shirt and put the napkin on the ledge of the balcony before cupping my hands around his own, housing the lighter from the wind so that he could light his cig.

“Thanks” James sounds appreciative as it cherries and he takes a long drag and I give him a small smile.

“Thank _you_ sir. For, like, saving me” I laugh as take the last gulp of my drink and then cross my arms over my chest.

“Nah, you had that. I just thought I’d make sure everything was okay. Drunk people aren’t easy”

Anyone with eyes would have been checking James out. He had this whole James(hah!) Dean thing going on with his jacket and the way he styled his dark curls. He might have been tall- but he wasn’t really lanky. His arms we’re big, even under the leather I could tell he was sporting a nice body.

And his neck tattoo?

Don’t even get me started on his neck tattoo.

“No they’re not. I smell like a can of beer now” I whine a little, a little dramatically and the smile I get in return is what I wanted.

“Its fine, you still look good” Was he flirting back?

Whaaaat?

Someone this hot flirting with me?

I mean I by no means disliked myself- I knew I was cute but he was like fucking Ryan Reynolds cute.

Ryan Reynolds with a neck tat.

What a panty dropper

“If you say so…what is it? James” I pretend I don’t remember his name. As though meeting him and his friends back inside had slipped my mind.

“Yeah, James” I hold out my hand and he shakes it, amusement glinting in his dark eyes.

“Well nice to meet you again, James. I’m Kayleigh”

“I remember” No, it didn’t give me a little rush when he said that…”Sorry my buddy talked your ear off in there. Get a little tequila in him and he doesn’t shut up”

“It’s all good. I think everyone is like that with tequila” I shrug and I don’t look over at him but I know he smiles.

Five minutes go by, and then ten, and then twenty and close to thirty.

And I stay out, on the rooftop with James. He smokes slow, but still goes through two cigarettes in one sitting and the look on my face makes him shake his head.

“You’re one of those smoker haters I’m taking it” He assumed as he exhales a puff of smoke. As though to show he didn’t really give a fuck.

“You’re a grown man, what you choose to do to your lungs is your own choice”

My friends choose to make their appearance then, both of them looking at me with drunk and questioning eyes as they come up to me and James.

“Um hi, I thought you got abducted or something” Arlene accuses.

“No, I’m fine. Uh- you remember James” I gestured to the tall man beside me and James’ tiny grin is coerced.

Cassie’s fucking wasted. All unfocused and teetering in her heels. I watch her amusedly as she leans against our curly headed friend for support.

“Hi James” She chimed, too bright. Cassie was never like that, her voice was always, like, monotone.

Resting bitch face and such.

“How many drinks did you guys have without me?” I wonder.

“Like two, we we’re waiting for you to come back but you we’re having your own fun out here I see” She’s gonna bust shit. I can just see it “It’s okay, I still love you even though you abandoned us”

“It’s time to get you home, huh?” I tell her and she nods, brishing her long silky straight raven hair away from her face, out of her mouth.

“Thank you, for earlier” I turn back to James “It was cool talking to you”

“Yeah it was cool, you guys get home safely okay?”

That’s all he’s going to say? Fucking really?

I was going to leave that bar and never see him again.

My stomach sinks as I force a pleasant look and nod, muttering about him having a good night too before grabbing Cassies arm, opposite of Arlene , to balance her.

Why did I feel so jipped?

My head screamed at me to turn around as we started walking.

My ego though, told me whatever. His lost. He obviously didn’t like me…

But he was so hot. And so flirty. And that tattoo….

Fuck.

Fuck that.

I’d turned around on impulse, letting go of my friend for a minute.

My heart was pounding and I forced myself to be a confident grown woman. To go after what I wanted. The worst he could do was say no. And that would suck but I would get over it.

“Do you have a phone, James?”

James had looked me up and down- then smiled. The corner of his bearded mouth tilting upwards as he reached into his leather and pulled out his iphone, unlocking it and then handing it to me.

I type in my number and then save it as ‘Kayleigh’ with a little crescent moon emoji next to it.

“Here you go, sir” I plop it back into his hand and then bite my bottom lip “I’ll see you around”

“Yeah. I think you will. Have a good rest of the night, Kayleigh”

And I try to keep my cool as I walk away, try to keep the bubbling energy inside of me. I’d just been a fucking SAVAGE, I’d never really done anything like that before and I didn’t want to ruin it by squealing for joy when he could still see me.

“You boss ass bitch, that was fucking crazy!” Arlene whispered to me, hype in her voice “Oh my god you’re my new hero”

“I think I’m gonna’ throw up” And Cassie ends up puking in the Taxi all the way home. I don’t even really think about it, I hold her hair with a beaming smile.

I couldn’t wipe it off my face.

**I want this story to feel a little choppy, a little like a diary since it will be a collection of out of order one shot’s. Hope this is feeding your James addiction while I work on BTD.**


	3. Chopped up into Little Peices

He didn't contact me for five days.

Five fucking days.

After the third day I had come to the conclusion that I was probably not going to get a text or anything anytime soon so I sucked it up, all that disappointment, and decided to pretend it had never happened.

Whatever.

Was he hot as fuck? Yes. Had I hoped to see his face again? Yes.

But I wasn't going to allow myself to dwell on it. Who had the time to pine over a guy the met for like negative two seconds? Not me. Plus thinking about how bold I had been back at the bar just to have him probably delete my number when I walked away was mortifying, so I pushed it out of my head. Far away.

So I go about my life.

Which unfortunately includes working out. The bane of my existence. But I mean who doesn't want good cardiovascular health right? If I do some running I can eat chicken wings and that is a comprise I was willing to make

I'm all but limping out of the gym, my hearts just starting to slow back to its normal rate but my muscles are screaming.

'What the fuck did you do to me' every bicep and tricep in my body wails.

The warm and muggy Texan air hits us hard as we exit the glass doors and I groan.

"I feel like I'm going to die oh my god" My little sister, Alyce, groans from beside me as we trudge to my car. "Seriously, fuck you for making me come do this with you. I'm never going to the gym with you again. Pilates is fun my ass"

"Okay, I told you it was 'Hot Pilates' and it was going to be intense" I point out in protest, but even I know I'm never taking that hellish class again.

"At least we burned like five hundred calories"

"Hah, I feel like my kidneys are failing"

We've just gotten into my car (it's never been so hard for me to climb into the jeep) when my phone rings.

It's an unknown number and I really don't think much of it as I click the green answer button.

Probably a trash call, some bill collector demanding I pay my off my college loans or that credit card I had when I was nineteen, but whatever. Might as well answer to make sure it wasn't something or someone important.

"Hello?" My voice sounded a little ruder then I meant for it but you try being cheery after a Pilates instructor almost took your life.

"Hey" The voice that comes over the receiver is deep and smooth and familiar "It's James"

Oh shit.

My heart skips a beat.

And then two more before I can recover enough to reply to him.

Because I really thought that he had decided not to call me, that the idea of ever seeing the hot stranger from the bar would always be just that.

"Oh, Hi James" My tone changes, to something more pleasant. More flirty and receptive "This is a surprise"

"Is that him" Lyss, Alyce, whispers from beside me because of course I had raved to her about the hot, tattooed ,Ryan Reynolds looking guy I'd met at the bar.

I nod my head and mouth yeah and for her to 'shh'.

"Yeah, I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to get a hold of you, I've been really busy with work this week"

"If you say so"

He chuckles gruffly "I do. I was hoping you'd let me make it up to you"

"We might be able to work something out. Maybe"

"Well what does your schedule look like for the rest of the week?"

"I'm off any day after six, or I'm completely free this weekend"

"What about Friday? We could grab dinner or something"

"I don't know, how do I know you're not going to chop me up into little pieces huh?" I wonder, kidding. Maybe.

Partially.

Did I mention I watched way too many murder documentaries?

Investigation Discovery is a blessing and a curse. Because I could probably commit the perfect murder but I was also hyper aware of everyone around me now since watching season after season of 'Forensic Files'

Lyss snort from beside me and cranks up the air conditioning, lifting up her tank top and leaning in close to let the air rush over her sports bra covered chest, still quietly whining about dying and wanting In-N-Out.

"Nah, you'll stay whole I promise. And we'll go somewhere public if that will make you feel better. What do you like to eat?"

"Umm I'm usually game for anything, but I have to go. I'll text you okay? And I won't make you wait a week for it"

"Five days" He defends himself, but he seems amused. "And okay, yeah, let me know. Have a good rest of your day"

"You too, sir. bye James"

I hang up and bite my lips together, little rushes of excitement surging through me.

"Oh my god, I can't believe he called" I announce out loud as I shift out of park and turn out into the street. I'd really thought that I was never going to see him again. That he was just going to be a fun bar story that I could tell people.

"He seems kind of like a dick. Why'd it take him so long to call you?" Lyss snarks.

Hah. The family snark. I'd inherited it too.

"I don't know something about work"

"Did he ask you out?

"Yeah, dinner on Friday"

"What a lame first date" A shakes her head as she plays on her phone "Dinner? Basic"

"We all can't be twenty one and into doing meth on first dates like you" I tease with a laugh. She's still in that "I'm all about adventuring and fuck everything that doesn't feed my soul" period of her life.

Ah, to be young. And stupid. And inexperienced on the vast traumas of life.

"I guess. It's going to be you're boring as first date- not mine "

"Har, har cunt" I roll my eyes "Do you still want In-N-Out? I need sustenance"

"Yes pleaaaaase"

And then we eat back all the calories we'd burnt off and I think about how lame I am that so excited about a dinner date with a guy I'd talked to for like twenty minutes as I shove fries into my mouth at an alarming rate.

"Lame" Alyce's voice rings in my head.

* * *

Am I getting lame?

I really ponder that question as I'm curled up on my couch, wrapped in a furry throw blanket trying to make a dent in my ever growing mess of homework. Jupiter, my cat, an old calico long haired creature that I'd adopted a couple years ago(he also happened to be my soulmate) was lounged out beside me, paying more attention to the TV that I mostly had on for back ground noise then I was.

Fuck no I'm not lame I defend myself to myself.

A little bit of a homebody? Sometimes. I definitely wasn't into strobe lights and big crows like I once had been but I still had a helluva social circle, and was nearly always doing _something._

Plus, let's be real. Who can really be not lame when they're time is usually divided between work and school? Working to pay for school. Going to school to get a better paying job. Ugh. It was endless.

I pick up my iPhone and scroll through my call list, clicking on that unsaved sequence of numbers and creating a new contact.

James.

Gnawing on the inside of my lip, I attempt to compose a text that's both intriguing and friendly.

Like, who can even do that?

Gah.

This is why I fucking hate dating and chose to occupy my time with my vibrator and one night stands.

_I'm into anything except for pizza. For future reference and for Friday_

I send to him, putting my phone face down on the arm of the couch and going back to my homework. Trying to pay attention to my human behavior paper.

Phone face down because it had always been a weird habit of mine. If there was ever a reply to a message I'd sent, and I was nervous of the response I was going to get I'd put my phone down like that so that I couldn't check the screen every two seconds, or else I would. Check. Every second. Like clockwo-

My phone beeps. An incoming text and I don't miss a beat as I pick it up to look at it.

_Who doesn't like pizza? I think I'm the one who's going to have to worry about being chopped up into little pieces. But okay- noted. 8 on Friday sound good? I'll pick you up_

I manage to hold off a whole twelve minutes before texting him back, trying to keep some kind of cool girl nonchalance about myself.

_Sounds like a plan. See you then_

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty guys, Like I said I want this to read almost like a dairy. Like your looking into her memories and seeing the events as she did. Will become muuuuch more random after we establish their relationship.


	4. First Dates in the Art District

Our first date went like most first dates go, an average start to what would be a far from average relationship.

No telltale signs of impending doom, no hint of Romeo and Juliet like tragedy in the distance.

I spent close to two hours getting ready; the moment I got home from work I'd hopped in the shower and exfoliated my body within an inch of its life.

I'd stared at my razor for a minute more than a minute. Do I shave? Was that setting myself up? For something good or bad…

I mean I was far from object to the idea of fucking James. But on the first date?

No…I was going to make him wait, I vowed right there in the shower. No first date fucks, no one night stand after dinner.

Plus, I was on my period, so that seemed like a sign from the gods. Bloody and to the point. Period sex is fine and all(we're all adults here, right? Sometimes period sex could be more then fine), but not with some guy on a first date.

So I decide against shaving and hop out, wrapping myself in my robe with a sense of pride and levelheadedness. Fuck, this must be what true adulthood feels like.

That was until I started getting ready. The restaurant he'd told me we we're going to was a new place in Uptown, near the Art district. So nice enough for a first date, but casual enough that I defiantly should show up in a floor length gown…

Or should I?

Ugh.

I always did have a nasty knack for overdressing. We could be having a movie night at some ones house and I'd take the time to contour my face. My friends hated me for it.

Makeup was a secret passion of mine. I had a theory that it was for most girls, that the ones who didn't love it just hadn't discovered it yet, because holy fuck to have the power to go from bare faced and acne scarred to a glam goddess was life changing. I smoked my eyes out with warm, complimentary tones and defined my cheekbones with purpose, feeling more and more confident as I went.

I liked myself naked faced, bags, acne scars and all. I'd had twenty five years to get there. But just because I accepted myself makeup less and looking like a new born monkey didn't mean I couldn't love myself with false eyelashes that could nearly take flight and my hair styled and bouncy and not in its wild curly natural state.

Being in control of the way I looked, of the way I presented myself made me feel powerful.

Womanly and strong.

Hear me roar and all that.

Who said feminism and makeup couldn't go hand in hand?

I end up in a knotted white tee, and skinny fit black jeggings with pair of kaki green heeled strappy sandals on my feet and dainty gold jewelry on my neck and fingers.

Casual enough to not look like I was trying too hard.

Right?

I send a picture of my outfit in a group message to my friends because 'help hookers, do I look alright?'

They're quick positive replies make me smile, make a wave of gratefulness wash over me.

I give myself a good spritz of perfume; one that smelled light and floral and warmly sweet but not in a choking way before fluffing my hair as I look into my vanity mirror. Pleased. Nervous. Irritated at being nervous.

I hated being nervous. I had worked on keeping said emotion at bay for years, so when it reared its ugly head I couldn't help but feel my skin crawl.

Ever late, I'm still sitting at my mirror when my phone chimes.

 _I'm out front_ is the text from James and my response is to stand up so fast it almost makes me woozy and grab a cropped leather jacket from my disheveled closet, shrugging it on as grabbed the bag I'd chosen for the night and applied one last blotting of nude, blush colored lipstick, running my ringer along the corner edges of my lips to perfect it.

Fuck.

Here goes noting.

I walk out of my apartment and into the warm Texan outside, clicking down the stairs, the small path, and then into the parking lot. My eyes scan the lot, just for a moment. Not having to look far because James is outside of his SUV(shiny and new looking, I'm not even going to pretend like I knew the make or model of. I'd never been a car girl) leaning against the driver's side door as he sucked on the end of a cigarette.

He's tall and dark, dressed again in a leather jacket and dark jeans. And handsome.

God almighty. Is he fucking handsome. Looking like a character that'd walked straight out of an classic black and white movie about pretty girls in bell dresses and boys with slicked back hair who drove motorcycles.

Tell me about it, stud.

I give him a small hug in greeting, because I am and have always been a hugger and he opens my door for me, closing it when I pull my legs in. Real gentleman like.

"You look nice" James comments, his voice that sexy silken husk of his and I swallow the semi flushed grin that threatens to envelope my face.

"So do you. We're twins tonight" I tease, referring to the fact that we both seem to be donning leather jackets. "So, have you ever been here before? To the restraint I mean?"

"No, but I've heard good things about it. It should be good"

I was secretly pleased, that he'd taken the incentive to pick a place for us to eat. It made heat stir in my middle; admiration? I was a little impressed. Most guys would sit and grill me about where I wanted to go and it could literally go on for hours-because who can pick when put on the spot like that?

The thing I hate about first dates, even that first date with James, is the resistance. That thin film like filter that seems to be between you and your date because neither of you know each other from jack. No one knows their boundaries yet, it's all testing the water and how was your days? Safe topics that wouldn't rub anyone the wrong way.

You see? I hate safe topics.

I had always been a bit inappropriate in the fact that I wanted to talk about anything and everything.

So when we get to the restaurant, that's super cute by the way; with its high beamed wooden ceilings and open patio seating(very art district sheik) and are seated( quickly, luckily, because James had been smart enough to make reservations at the popular spot) at a little booth I start to creep out of the safe zone.

"So, let's get all the boring shit out of the way, yeah?"

He looks amused, his chocolate eyes questioning, but open. "Boring shit?"

"Yeah. Where did you grow up? What do you do for a living? Are you working on your 401k? Boring shit like that" I inform him lightly as I look over the menu, the drinks in particular.

"You wanna' go first or should I?"

"I'll go" I smiled, pageant like, playful, before explaining that I was a Dallas native, psych major, who worked at an insurance company call center. Cat person. Obviously.

"Well we're not going to get along at all because I'm a dog person all the way" James is good natured tonight, a lot more talkative then he was when I'd met him at the bars with his friends. I wondered if that was something he did a lot, flip on and off.

"I grew up in Baton Rouge- I lived there til I was legal and then high tailed" He starts, sipping on the bottled beer he had ordered.

He was nice to the waiter too, no snapping of his fingers or anything like that which I always looked out for.

"Where's your accent?" I tease.

"Where's yours?" He teases right back and I nod. Touche. Though some of my words did have a southern twinge, I didn't have much of southern accent either.

"I joined the army when I was eighteen, you know promised patriotism and all that shit, and served for almost ten years"

"Fuck, ten years? That's a long time. Where we're you deployed?"

"All over the middle east; Afghanistan mostly but I spent some time in Syria and Iraq too" I search his face for any trace of unease, of hesitance at the subject but there was none I could find so I pressed on.

"What did you do there? I mean I don't know much about like military ranks and stuff?" I sip on the frozen margarita the waitress had brought me.

Alcohol(the greatest love hate relationship of my life) was good on first dates.

Loosened everything up.

"I was a sniper mostly. Was a ranger for a little before that"

Okay, now I could see a little bit of hesitance, and I was smart enough to change the subject. I was studying psychology for god sakes, I knew when someone needed a breather.

"That's interesting. What do you do now? I mean if you don't mind me asking?"

"No, I don't. I work in business sales"

Smooth fucker. Looking back now made me go into hysterical laughter. Business sales. It wasn't a lie. He just didn't tell me what kind of business, and I didn't ask.

When I was half way through my margarita and we we're munching on our dinner, was when that super boring first date veil started to lift.

James' a funny fucker. His humor dry and receptive and it bounces off my own in bounds as we go back and forth.

He's somehow more handsome when he laughs, his crow's feet and laugh lines deep and crinkly.

I learn that his favorite place in the world was at a little bakery in Shreveport, and that he didn't really speak with either of his parents that were both still living, and that he liked his steak so raw it was practically mooing.

And I explained that I could spend hours in random book stores, and talk endlessly about saving the bee's and was raised by my teacher of a grandmother so I had a gnarly case of grammar nazitis-

And that my mom had died when I was seventeen.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that" He says it soft, but not coddling or overly sympathetic. He says it like he knows how it feels, like he's tasted his own mouthful of death.

"No, it's totally fine. It was a long time ago" Nearly ten years ago.

And then he lets me change the subject back to bubbling, easier topics like that news story I'd read on my Facebook time line and how weird it was that he didn't have a Facebook.

"I don't see the point. It's for staying in touch with people right? How many of those people do you ever actually get together with? I think it's a bunch of unnesiccary drama"

"Are you a spy? Only spy's and people who are secretly married don't have Facebooks"

James laughs. Hard. Shaking his head at me "No I'm not a spy and I'm pretty sure I'm not married"

"Pretty sure?"

"Well I mean there was this one time in Afghanistan…"

See that humor of his?

He thinks it's ridiculous how much I "believe" in Astrology. I tell him he shouldn't knock things he hasn't taken the time to look into and he doesn't really argue with me or try to make me feel stupid about my obsession like other guys have in the past.

"I've actually gotten really good at guessing sun signs" I gloat after I swallow a mouthful of the grilled mushroom chicken I'd ordered.

"Sun sign?" His eyebrows raise a little, confused.

"What you know as your zodiac sign"

"Okay, guess mine then" He challenges as he cuts his steak, his eyes never leaving mine though.

Talkative yet reserved. Funny, but in a dry kind of way that most people wouldn't pick up on. Social, merciual, and modest even though he looked like he could be on 'Peoples hot 100's list'…

Yeah. I'd known since the first meeting at the bar, or at least I'd had a feeling.

"You're a Virgo" I guess, hoping I'm not wrong and making a total fool out of myself. "Am I right?"

He looks blank for a second; he's got a hell of a poker face, before a he gives me a straight toothed grin.

"How'd you know?"

"A magician never reveals his tricks, duh" I reply coyly, the look I give him playful and vexing. Not backing down as he looks right back at me, with those intense brown eyes that had I been standing would have made my fucking knees weak.

"You have beautiful eyes" He rasps as he leans his arm on the table, his eyes flicking over my face a little "I'm sure you've been told that before"

Yeah, since, like, birth. But coming from him was something waaaay different. The way he looked at me when he said it…

"Yeah, but it's still nice to hear, thank you" I tear my gaze away, trying to keep the thrills in my stomach at bay.

See, like I said, it was just a regular first date. A damn good one, in my opinion, because I'd never had a first date where I felt that much magnetism before, but regular.

No dodging bullets or drug busts.

Just me, trying to get a read on this beautiful specimen of a man.

"Thanks for dinner, It was fun" I beam at him, unbuckling my seat belt, as I angle my body to where it's facing his as we pull into my apartment lot. I'm feeling warm, from that margarita and from the fact that I'd managed to get through the night without doing any thing damagingly clumsy like usual.

Because I wasn't clumsy in the cute, quirky way. I was clumsy in the stain my shirt(severely) or give myself a big ass bruise or accidentally break someone's car radio.

"It was, we should do it again" James comments from the driver's seat, the car set in park so that he could fully look at me too.

"I think that could probably be arranged"

A little grin quirks the side of his bearded mouth.

So attractive.

"I should make you wait for it, since it took you so long to call me" I point out, a devious look in my eyes. I like the way he reacts to that- to my playful toying side. His hickory eyes amused, entertained. No offense in sight.

He was obviously thick skinned.

Not all men were like that. I knew, I'd dated a few guys who couldn't take a joke and it had been such a fucking drag.

"That's not what I want…but If you have to, I'll wait"

That wasn't the reply I was expecting. I know it shows on my face.

"Really?"

"Yeah"

I can't help it; I search his face for what felt like the hundredth time that night.

I'd end up doing that countless times in the next couple of years, mapping the lines of his face with my eyes in an attempt to really understand him.

"I've been really wanting to see that new Saw movie- I know they're cheesy as shit, but do you want to come? Sunday? Maybe?" I request, taking the leap.

Maybe I was the one who couldn't force myself to wait?

"Sunday it is" James agrees and I feel like flying. Elated. Happy in a girlish, almost childish way.

"Okay, yeah, sounds good" I grab my purse, biting on my bottom lip a little.

That rush of daring surges up in me again. The kind that had reared its head back at the bar when I'd first met him. A sort of fuck it, I like him.

"Goodnight James" I reach over the console to press a kiss to his scruffy cheek. It's easy, casual seeming almost "I'll see you Sunday, kay?"

"Yeah..I'll see you. Goodnight, Kayleigh"

It's little memories like that. Ones from the times where we'd barely touched each other…from when everything was still so innocent that plague me. Because how would I have ever known what I was in for?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so this James might seem a little OOC but when I was watching the show I noticed that he can be insanely charming. He has a good mask that he can put on for people and I definitely think he'd use that mask on a first date. For all of my Born to Die readers, that'll be updated sometime this eek. I just love writing a more...loose James romance. I want this story to be more real world and not drug world based.


	5. The Way to a Man's Heart is Through his Stomach

James spends more time at my apartment then he does at his own, which I point out is a hell of a lot nicer then my own. The loft with it's high ceilings and nice view of the skyline was far superior to my own cozy little one room.

"Mmm, I like the view here" James assures, his voice matter of fact as he comes up behind me, pressing himself hard against my back in a way that made me both tense up and lean back into him as I continued to tend to the chicken that was pan frying for dinner. His hands are planning over my stomach as his arms wrap around my middle and he leans down to press his mouth to my hoodie clothed shoulder.

"How did today go? Everything with Camila and that rival gang still running smooth?" I wonder, trying to keep the worry out of my voice, as I stir the food, He nods, I can feel it and without lifting his face from my shoulder tells me that everything's still okay with the Jimenez- they accord is sticking and there shouldn't be anymore bloodshed.

Good, I think.

When he'd showed up on my doorstep a month ago, his face black and blue I'd almost had a fucking stroke.

What would I do if he showed up with a bullet wound? Fuck only knows.

At first this whole being the girlfriend of a drug dealer thing seemed...exciting. A splash of color, or thrilling taboo in my boring life. Because not only was James hot in a way that made people's heads turn to take a second look...he had money,

The kind that at first had taken me by surprise.

You like that Michael Kors purse? I'll get it for you.

That online Zara cart? Yours, baby.

I mean fuck, he'd gotten me a pair of diamond earrings for out FIRST Valentines Day together.

It was hard to accept the kind of gifts he was willing to give me- even now. He had to remind me that he had the money, and that he _wanted_ to spend it on me. It was all some kind of 50 Shades of Grey fantasy that I'd seem to have fallen into...

Except Christian Grey didn't blow holes in people for a living.

I was more then aware that the presents he doted upon me with were bought with blood money.

Did that bother me? The saddest part about it was not really. As long as it wasn't his blood, I could block that out of my head. Pretend that when he left for work in the morning he was just going to a regular job, bringing in the shmoney like anyone else would.

That's what I told my family, who happened to love the living shit out of him.

"He's in construction- yeah, working on the new buildings downtown"

James had laughed hard at me about that "You couldn't even have told them did something I'm actually good at? Construction" He'd shaken his head "I've never built anything more then that desk we got from Ikea in my life"

And he'd taken an hour and a half of cussing for him to get that bookshelf together.

"It's going to be okay, shit might get crazy for a minute, but it always settles, and it's settled for now, baby" His voice so close to my ear makes me squeeze his arm that's still around my middle for a second before squirming out of his grip, needing to strain the noodles.

He knows better then to ask to help- I had a thing about cooking being my happy place(which probably had a lot of somethings to do with my thunder thighs), and that it was my decompression time.

His helping bordered on getting in the fucking way.

So I'm happy he decides to go plop down on the couch with Ju-Ju in his lap while I finished up in the kitchen... because my mouth was harsh and James was gooey and soft under that thin layer of military trained coolness he wore like his leather jackets.

I hurt his feelings far too easy, and far too often.

If our relationship had taught me anything so far it was to learn to train my mouth to not say all the dagger sharp things my brain fired off, especially after a long day at work.

Most women don't like to work a nine hour shift and then come home and cook a meal for their man.

And I mean don't get me wrong there were days where I wanted to do nothing but eat take out and take off my bra and go straight to bed, but a lot of the time, I liked to cook.

Nothing too extravagant, but home made meals. Ones that took energy, that I could pour energy into.

Blackened Cajun chicken pasta with a chopped salad and stir fried veggies were on the menu for the night and I pile them on a plate, and go to bring it to him.

James hadn't really grown up on hot meals, and the first time I'd cooked for him he'd looked at me as though I was some kind of goddess.

I fucking love that look on his face. The one I'm rewarded with almost everynight now as I bring him a steaming plate. It's child like almost. His ember eyes are appreciative and adoring- of me or the food I don't know.

"Thank you, babe"

Another thing I love, that thank you. It never fails as I hand him his plate, he looks up and I cant help but scrunch my nose at him.

Cute bastard.

I place a quick, pecking kiss on his lips before going to retrieve my own plate, feeling a deep sense of contentment and warmth in my chest.

See, not all of our relationship was brutal- scary and trying. Some of it, my favorite parts of it were warm and homey and simple.

The parts I cling to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be a lot of little short chapters like this one, I think I like these most. Just little memories. And I FUCKING CRY for de-shelled James. The one who obvi has mommy issues and gets all awed when his girlfriend cooks dinner for him. Be still, my beating heart.


End file.
